


Original Version of the Second Half of Chapter Fifteen of "A Careful Kind of Something"

by hope_in_the_dark



Series: A Careful Kind of Something ‘Verse [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Religious Discussion, the boys have a heart-to-heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 14:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_in_the_dark/pseuds/hope_in_the_dark
Summary: This title sucks, but yeah, that's exactly what it is. If you haven't read "ACKoS" this won't make any sense, but if you have and are here to check this out, great!Anthony shows up to the Seraff's flat before church on Christmas Eve. He goes with them, which leads to a very eventful night.





	Original Version of the Second Half of Chapter Fifteen of "A Careful Kind of Something"

**Author's Note:**

> hello, lovely readers! Thanks to any of you who have decided to give this a look. Love you!
> 
> Warnings for very heavy religious themes and discussion here. I am so sorry if this is a touchy subject for any of you (it actually is for me, which is why I wrote it to begin with); please know that you are SO loved and that I wish I could hug you in person.

*********  
At ten in the evening on Christmas Eve, the doorbell to the Seraffs’ flat buzzed. Ezra shouted that he’d get it, and finished pulling on his shirt before walking downstairs and opening the door. Standing on the other side of it in a demure navy suit was Crowley, red hair combed down and a piece of paper clenched in his pale hand.

“Hi,” Crowley said. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

Ezra stood there and stared for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here?” A horrible thought crossed his mind. “Oh, no, are you _drunk_?”

Crowley scowled and managed to look offended behind his dark glasses. “No. I just brought you my grades report, and I changed my mind about going to church, but if that’s what you think, then I’ll just go.” He was turning to leave, so Ezra reached out and grabbed him by the bicep.

“Sorry, I just… last time you showed up at my flat at ten in the evening, you were sloshed, so I thought… sorry. Get in here.” He tugged Crowley through the doorway and up the stairs.

Mrs. Seraff was in the sitting room tying her husband’s tie when Ezra and Crowley walked through the door. “Hello, Anthony! I thought I heard your voice.”

“Good evening,” Crowley said politely, smiling at Ezra’s mum. “Hello, Mr. Seraff. I hope you don’t mind if I join you and your family tonight for church?”

“For once, Mr. Crowley, I think that’s a very good idea. And, erm, happy Christmas Eve.” He wasn’t sure, but Ezra thought he heard the barest hint of softness in his father’s voice. “We’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”

“Okay, come on, Anthony. I’ve got to finish getting dressed.” Ezra motioned for Crowley to follow him and walked back to his room, closing the door behind them. As soon as it was shut, he grabbed the paper out of Crowley’s hand, read it, and then threw his arms around Crowley’s neck.

“I’m firing you as my tutor,” Crowley laughed, resting his chin on top of Ezra’s head.

“Too bad for you, because I’m resigning.” They both stood there for a moment, laughing and hugging, before Ezra pulled back because he had remembered that he was supposed to be getting ready for church and decidedly _not_ supposed to be thinking about kissing his best friend.

Crowley reclined on Ezra’s bed and watched him get dressed. Ezra had decided to wear the suit he’d worn on his “adventure” with Crowley, which meant that he needed help with his bow tie again. As he’d done before, Crowley did it up with deft fingers, and Ezra gave him a small smile in thanks.

“Hey,” Ezra said to Crowley as he fluffed up his hair in the mirror. “Fix your hair.” In the reflection, he could see Crowley frown.

“I thought it would be-”

Shaking his head, Ezra cut him off. “Just fix it. It looks, I don’t know, _wrong_ like that.” Crowley’s frown turned into a smirk and he buried his long fingers in his hair, tugging it up and carding his hands through it until it looked normal again. Ezra watched all of this with interest out of the corner of his eye while pretending to look for the right pair of socks (and was putting quite a bit of effort into remembering how to breathe).

When he was done, Crowley grunted at Ezra and gestured to the top of his head. Not trusting himself to form words properly, Ezra gave him a thumbs-up in reply and sat down on the bed to pull on his socks and boots.

The Seraffs and Crowley finally made their way out of the flat and piled into the family car. It was an old Ford Anglia that had dents in the bumpers and paint chipping off from nearly everywhere, but it was still running, so Mr. Seraff hadn’t seen fit to replace it just yet. The ride to the cathedral was mostly quiet, but Ezra could feel Crowley stiffening in his seat the closer they got to the church. By the time they arrived, Crowley’s hands were balled into fists against his sides and all the blood had drained from his face.

“Are you alright, dear?” Mrs. Seraff asked kindly, placing her hand on Crowley’s shoulder as they joined the throng of people walking through the cathedral doors. Crowley gave a sharp nod but kept staring straight ahead, and Ezra thought that he looked a little like he was about to pass out.

“We’ll be there in a second, Mum,” Ezra said, giving her a meaningful look before wrapping his hand around Crowley’s and stepping back out into the cold.

As soon as they were out of earshot of Ezra’s parents, Crowley blurted out what he’d been thinking. “I don’t know that I can do this. This building is _huge_ , I never realized… I’ve driven by it before, but it’s really massive, and I’ve never been to church before. Everyone in there is going to take one look at me and know I don’t belong there. I just- I want to- I just don’t know if I can _do_ this, angel.” His palm was clammy against Ezra’s warm and dry one, but Ezra didn’t care. Instead of pulling away, he turned his hand and laced their fingers together, stroking the skin between Crowley’s thumb and forefinger.

“It’s alright,” Ezra soothed. “You can go home if you want to. It’s okay.”

“I wanted to be here. I wanted to try it.” Crowley was shaking and gripping Ezra’s hand so hard Ezra thought it might leave finger-shaped bruises. “I thought that maybe… oh, I don’t know. I just thought- well, it’s been a few days since school let out, and I hadn’t seen you, so I wanted to come and…” He stuttered and stopped talking, looking up at the front of the cathedral, sunglasses still on his face.

Ezra reached up with his free hand and slid the glasses down Crowley’s nose, and then he pushed Crowley’s chin down so their eyes met. “Did you come tonight because you missed me?” Crowley made a face but didn’t answer. “As much as I’d have loved it if you’d come because you wanted to see what this religion thing is all about, I’m actually a little happy about your reason.”

“I didn’t _say_ I missed you.” It was a protest, but a weak one.

“Don’t be stupid, Anthony. I missed you, too.”

Crowley’s too-pale face gained back a little color in the form of a blush. “Oh.”

“Yes, _oh_. You’re my best friend, of course I missed you! You’re daft,” Ezra laughed, giving Crowley’s hand a gentle squeeze. In truth, he’d missed Crowley as far more than a best friend, but he wasn’t about to make that particular confession outside of a church on Christmas Eve (or - he thought - probably ever). “Now. I have to go back inside, the service is going to start in a couple minutes and I have to find my family. Do you want me to call you a cab?”

Crowley turned his head again to stare back up at the looming white columns. “I just… I don’t belong in there. People will know.”

Realization flashed through Ezra’s mind. _This is his Ritz._ “Anthony, the first time you took me to the Ritz, I freaked out, do you remember?”

“Mmm,” Crowley hummed, still looking at the church as though it were about to crash down on top of them.

“I told you that I didn’t feel like I fit in. I said what you said: people would know. Everyone there was judging me, and I couldn’t stand it, and I was afraid because you fit in so well and I stuck out.” Crowley didn’t reply, just kept staring over Ezra’s head, his golden eyes wide with fear. “You asked me a question. You said ‘So?’ and I thought that was ridiculous, because how could you not see me the way everyone else did?”

“Because you’re _you,_ angel.” It sounded very much as though Crowley hadn’t meant to say it, and it looked like he hadn’t been aware that he had done.

“Right, okay. I can’t tell you this unless you’re going to hear it and understand it, so _look at me, Anthony_.” The command in Ezra’s voice jolted Crowley out of his panic. “Okay. Listen. If you want to go home, I understand why. I appreciate you giving it a try, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning. But if you want to stay, I promise I’ll protect you if anyone says anything - they won’t, they’re here because it’s Christmas and will be too focused on that to bother anyone - and I’ll be right beside you the whole time.”

“I won’t know what to do.” Some of the fear had gone out of Crowley’s gaze, but enough remained that it unsettled Ezra.

“I’ll show you.”

“I don’t believe in God.”

“That’s alright.”

“This is your world, angel, not mine.” This was said with more finality, more confidence, and Crowley started to sound a little more like Crowley again.

“If this is my world, do you want to know what I see when I look at it?” Crowley nodded. “You see it as massive, imposing. I see it as beautiful, a mark of human ingenuity and a sign of love for a God I believe in. I see the music as something left over from a forgotten time, a time when people tried to come together instead of breaking apart. And all of those people in there? They’re just as imperfect and broken and messed up as me, or you, or anyone else, and they're all from different classes and races and genders, but they’re all in there together, doing something _together_.”

“There are people in there - like your father - who look at me and say I’m going to hell.”

“I know. And those people - yes, including my father - are missing the point. People like you and me, we're just as deserving of love and just as valuable as anyone else."

"People like you and me?" Crowley asked faintly.

"Erm," Ezra said, glancing down at their interlocked hands for courage. "Yeah. People who like other people of the same sex."

Crowley made a strange choking noise. "Oh, right, that. I didn't know for sure that you- never mind. What were you saying?" Ezra couldn't possibly have known this, but Crowley's heart was doing celebratory jumping jacks in his chest.

"Right. I guess my point is that my faith, if practiced correctly, is one of love, and anyone who says otherwise can… can _fuck off_.”

At Ezra’s use of language, Crowley started to laugh. “Right, then. You tell ‘em, angel.”

“I might… choose another word,” Ezra said, ducking his head a little to hide the pink flush in his cheeks. “But I will.”

“Let’s go in,” Crowley said after a moment. “You’ve missed the beginning bit.”

Even though he’d given a little speech and tried to be as comforting as possible, Ezra had fully expected Crowley to walk down to the road and hail a cab, not turn and pull open the heavy church door. So, needless to say, he was surprised. “You’re coming?”

Crowley shrugged, all traces of vulnerability buried once again under a mask of nonchalance. “Might be interesting.”

“Right, of course,” Ezra said, but he smiled anyway. Crowley had dropped his hand, so he tucked it into the pocket of his suit trousers and walked into the cathedral with Crowley following a few steps behind. They stood at the back for a moment, scanning the crowd until they found Ezra’s parents - which happened so quickly Ezra thought it could be considered a minor miracle, under the circumstances - and went to sit down.

Ezra, of course, immersed himself in the service. He showed Crowley when to sit, stand, and kneel, and pointed out the correct hymns in the hymnal. Mostly, though, he just let himself love it. He truly loved it - the music, the smell of incense, the sound of people praying together, the way the candlelight bounced off the golden walls. It was, in Ezra’s book, better than even the nicest library and best cup of tea.

Crowley never sang and didn’t follow too closely what was going on at the altar, but he did find himself admitting that it was rather beautiful on the inside and contented himself with listening to Ezra sing and smiling at the enraptured expression on Ezra’s face. Once, during a quiet moment, he locked eyes with Ezra (he’d thought to put his sunglasses back on but figured that might be crossing the line just a little) and mouthed “thank you,” which made Ezra blush handsomely and get flustered enough that he lost his place in the readings.

When the service was over, everyone turned in their pews and told said “Happy Christmas” to the people nearest them. Ezra gave Crowley a hug when he did this, his heart beating a little faster at the way the smell of incense mingled with Crowley’s cologne. Finally, they filed out of the church and made their way back to the car. Ezra’s mum asked Crowley how he found it, and he said that it was better than he’d thought it would be. On the ride home, Mr. Seraff turned the radio to a station of Christmas songs, and everyone (including Crowley, who despite not being religious _was_ familiar with popular Christmas music) sang along and laughed about everything and nothing.

Ezra’s father parked the car in the alley behind the flat, and the family walked to the door. Crowley leaned over and told Ezra good night and began walking toward the Bentley when a question stopped him in his tracks.

“Anthony, would you like to stay the night?” This was Ezra’s mum, being gentle and motherly as always. “You’ll be back in the morning anyway, so you might as well just stay.”

There was a pause, and Ezra was unfathomably afraid that something had just gone horribly wrong. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” replied Crowley.

“You wouldn’t be,” Ezra said. “Promise.”

Crowley looked uncomfortable, and he spun his key nervously on his finger. “I haven’t got anything to sleep in.”

Mrs. Seraff laughed a little. “We’ve got something you can borrow, I’m sure. Come on, dear.” She held the door open for him, and to Ezra’s relief, Crowley stepped through it a moment later.

“Thanks,” Crowley said, and the family-plus-Crowley went upstairs to bed.


End file.
